Me, myself and Mulder
by starburst2
Summary: Mulder and Scully have to write personal reports characterizing themselves as a punishment
1. Default Chapter

Title: Me, myself, and Mulder  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Synopsis: Mulder and Scully must write personal reports characterizing themselves as a punishment  
  
Disclaimer: I wish I owned the x-files  
Chapter one  
  
Mulder, Mulder, Mulder, Mulder, Mulder, Mulder, Mulder, Mulder, Mulder, Mulder, Mulder, Mulder, Mulder, Mulder, Mulder, Mulder, Mulder, Mulder, Mulder, Mulder,  
  
Scully, imbued with frustration, pushed away from the desk and stared at the flickering computer screen. She methodically tapped her nails on the enter key as she faintly nodded her head in annoyance, and then backspaced so that only one 'Mulder,' remained. What a stupid punishment. Suspension for a week would be preferable to this, at least with the latter she could sleep in and get to the collection of dishes that had grown in her sink. But no, she had to write a Dear John to both Mulder and Skinner detailing personal information regarding a list of favorites, a brief synopsis of her childhood, college experiences, Quantico experiences, FBI experiences and an analysis of how her life has changed, how she has grown as a person and an agent of the FBI, and why Skinner should have to put up with her crap. The conclusion must include what attributes she possesses which are vital to the FBI and an argument that would advocate the reasons she should not be relieved of her partnership with Mulder or her position held as a special agent of the FBI. It all seemed painstakingly reminiscent to a college application essay.  
  
At least Mulder was in the same predicament, it was his entire fault as usual anyhow. His entire fault referring to the disregard for orders directed by Skinner (The infamous duo had gone out of state without approval) and the inability to account for several hundred federal dollars spent without his authorization on a bureau credit card lent to them for hotel accommodations and travel expenses for a case they had been working on earlier that week. After a brief meeting between the three earlier that morning, Skinner narrowed his eyes as an awkward smile contorted his reddened features; he then proceeded to appoint punishment. As the words 'A five page personal report' rolled off his pedantic tongue, Scully flinched and squirmed in her chair. She was secretly wishing for a suspension.  
  
As Skinner moved his eyes over the pair, an odd satisfaction and amusement was relayed in his grin. Mulder, whose lips slightly parted, released air in a groan like fashion that it may have come from a person hit with a baseball bat in the stomach with great contempt. She widened her eyes, shifted once again, crossed her arms over her chest and expelled air noisily through her nose while Skinner named off the requirements of their reports. He then smiled facetiously and raised his eyebrows. The brief silence was broken by an uncertain laugh born of Mulder. Noting the offended expression on his superiors face, he retorted with "You're joking, right?" That's when Skinner added on the conclusion part. Way to go Mulder.  
  
Mulder, You're an idiot.  
  
She laughed aloud. She had never been good at holding grudges, but she was going to milk this one for all its worth. Her tendency to give into Mulder, particularly by going along with his absurd and rebellious ideas, her silence and collaboration to defend all the details of their disobedience had earned her perhaps the toughest assignment in her career. She picked up a pen and gnawed at it thoughtfully. A frightening realization fell over her as she clicked the plastic between her teeth. Maybe she didn't really know herself that well. Why would it be hard to write about her self above all things? Is it obvious she doesn't have a good feel of whom she is- why else would Skinner be so satisfied with his punishment?  
  
She Picked up her phone and pressed the key for Mulder speed-dial. She let it ring twice and hung up. She decided she just needed a vacation and some time away from work to get back to her self and self-exploration. Maybe this would be a beneficial exercise in the long run.  
  
Mulder,  
  
It has occurred to me that perhaps you know me better than myself; therefore my report to you will be short.  
  
She moved her eyes over the assembly of words and hit the backspace button once again. I like: Chocolate chip mint ice-cream Reading Bubble baths The color blue Silence. Of The Lambs  
  
Backspace. She stood in a fit of agitation and walked over to the freezer where she pulled a carton of chocolate chip mint ice cream. 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2  
  
Across town behind the door of apartment number 42, Fox Mulder didn't seem to be having any more luck than his partner; however, he was having an arguably better time. With his feet propped up on the coffee table and a pile of saliva-moistened sunflower seed shells on his chest, he was engaged in a deep sleep. His mind was not preoccupied with his assignment but instead busy incorporating himself into the episode of the three stooges he had fallen asleep to. The trio with their predisposition for assuming new identities had taken on the role of FBI agents. They were at a crime scene collecting evidence when Mulder joined in on the fun.  
  
The phone rang causing Mulder to jerk forward sending a shower of sunflower seeds on to his lap and the floor. He leaned forward and grabbed the phone but by the time he clicked the talk button and put the receiver to his ear, the caller had hung up already. He yawned and stretched his arms over his head and slouched back into the indention he had left in his couch from his nap. His eyes surveyed his apartment; the pile of dirty clothes in the corner by the TV, the array of empty coffee cups cluttering the coffee table and the piles of papers and unopened mail scattered over his desk.  
  
He swept the remnants of the shells from his New York knicks t-shirt into his palm and brushed it off onto the coffee table on top of a yellow memo pad. He thoughtfully picked up the memo pad and read over the notes he had scribbled describing the requirements of his report. In the upper hand corner '5 pages' had been underlined several times and the 5 had been turned into a caricature of Skinner with glasses and a shine spot atop of his head. He snickered to himself at his drawing.  
  
What a shmuck.  
  
He picked up the phone and punched in the digits of Scully's phone number.  
  
" 'Ello?" She answered through a mouthful of something.  
  
"Oh, hey Scully. You're not busy, are you?"  
  
"No, no I was just eating a, uh, salad. Why, what's up?" She asked as she wiped the chocolate from the corners of her mouth.  
  
"I was just calling to see how your report was coming."  
  
"Fine." She paused. "How's yours coming?"  
  
"Good. Mine is coming along good. I thought for sure we were going to get chewed out or a week suspension without pay. We got off pretty easy, huh?"  
  
"Yeah, he must have been in a good mood." She replied as she scooped the softened ice cream onto her spoon and then let it drip back into its container as she stared at the blank word document before her.  
  
"Okay, well I'll see you tomorrow." He replied enthusiastically.  
  
"Good night Mulder."  
  
He listened to hear her hang up before he did. He turned off the phone and tossed it beside him and flipped the page of the memo pad to reveal a clean sheet. He picked up a dulled pencil from off the coffee table and filled his cheeks up with air and released it with a frustrated sigh.  
  
Dear Scully,  
  
By now, my childhood is no secret to you. My family was the picture of the average American household, dinner at 6 pm every evening, breakfast at 6:30. Baseball games, bike riding, swimming in the lake down the street. Everything was care free and peaceful, that is until Samantha was taken. The rest of my childhood was spent questioning everything. The care free approach I once took for granted was ripped out from under me and I was inundated into a world where trust did not exist and there were millions of questions left unanswered.  
  
He looked over what he had written and ripped it out. He threw the paper ball so that it landed on top of the pile of dirty clothes. His eyes moistened, but no tears formed. He covered his face with his hands and sniffled. This was going to be a long night. 


	3. Chapter 3

To: **Scully **

From:** Mulder **

Re:Re: I hate you

Dear Scully,

I am sorry to hear you are having difficulty, perhaps you should take out more time for this so called self-reflection, it may prove to be helpful in situations such as this.I would offer multitudes of compassion and warmth, but I find it unsettling to learn of your displaced anger. You are projecting self-loathing onto me, however, I am proud to be your scapegoat, because I indeed do not hate you nor do I find it satisfying to ascribe blame where it does not belong, and Scully, I know how stressful things can be and I want to be your shoulder to lean on. My report is coming along beautifully.

Ah! Streetcar…you know something? You remind me a bit of Blanche.

Happy writing,

M

Original Message:

To:** Mulder **

From:** Scully **

Re: I hate you

Dear Mulder,

It has occurred to me on many occasions that you are insane. And with refutable evidence suggesting that this insanity is clinical, I gave you the benefit of the doubt. I had faith in you, and you perpetually evaded these quizzical thoughts that lay dormant beyond "that face", as you have come to define it, that I perpetually wear. No longer do I doubt these thoughts. Mulder, you are insane. And this is your fault. I hate you. Lead me astray and get me suspended from work without pay for two weeks and it can be construed as a blessing in disguise; I will disperse myself into a dog eared novel or some self-reflective activity. Lead me astray to be at the disposal of a governmental conspiracy that will elucidate some of my biggest fears as truth and subject me to horrifying nightmares that have indeed accrued a prescription for xanax, my life had been enriched and saved from ever being defined as dull. But Mulder, this? I never thought I would find it so painfully difficult to complete such an easy task. And what's even harder yet is admitting this to you. Mulder. You have ruined me. You are a life ruiner. I hope you are happy.

I hate you.

Scully

P.S. A Streetcar named Desire is on TCM tonight at 8. Stella!

A smile tugged at her lips even though she had the sudden urge to put the paper weight Bill had given her for Christmas through the monitor. The gall! The nerve! At least he had made her smile.

She racked her brain for a few minutes and began typing furiously away.

To: **Mulder **

From:** Scully **

Re :Re: Re: I hate you

Dear Mother Teresa,

Pardon me for disgracing you and polluting your altruistic self perception. Since you are so selfless and endearing, I trust you will accept my most sincere apologies for any grievances I may have caused you. Forgive me. I am on my knees in shame and desperation.

Since you are completing your assignment with such ease, I am sure you would have no qualms with sending what you already have in order to help out a helpless, pathetic lost soul. You ought to pat yourself (with great exertion) on that pedantic back of yours.

HA. You are such a liar!!!!!!!

I still hate you,

Scully

She then clicked send and smiled to herself smugly. She pictured him stretched out on his couch lazily with a pile of sunflower seeds watching a porno. And she wasn't far off


End file.
